


The Sun and the Moon (Alternatively: Two Girls Play a Game, Die, and Then Are Not Dead Anymore)

by heart_of_glass



Series: Rosemary Month 2017 [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Rosemary Month, this ones real poetic my dudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 12:48:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12254709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heart_of_glass/pseuds/heart_of_glass
Summary: Some say the gods are real, and are here, on the earth. Some say the gods are real, and are out there, in the stars.





	The Sun and the Moon (Alternatively: Two Girls Play a Game, Die, and Then Are Not Dead Anymore)

**Author's Note:**

> day two prompt: sun/moon
> 
> this is really poetic and kinda dark?? (not really but its def not lighthearted either)

There are many old gods in this world. They orbit above and around the lives of those below, bound to their own gravity, bound to each other in ancient and sacred ways. It is said that these gods lived lives confined to bodies, once. Not the celestial bodies they inhabit now, but bodies of flesh and bone in which they lived and died, in which life was a game and in which life had an ending. This is just a story, however. It would be impossible to reconcile the gods with anything of flesh and bone. It would be foolish to assume that a metamorphosis such as this is what happened, or is probable, or that a chronology such as this one would be able to verified. Some things are beyond mortal comprehension.

However, there are stories about these old gods. Important stories. Some call them legends. Some say the gods are real, and are here, on the earth. Some say the gods are real, and are out there, in the stars. The gods are the stars and are earthly beings and are both at the same time and are neither and are full of contradictions and angles incomprehensible to those who keep these legends alive.

Two of these beings are deeply intertwined. They are the sun and the moon, the moon and the sun, the Lovers. They rose in darkness and in light and grew into that paradox. They became the opposites so drawn to each other that they built a world with their love. They are the eclipse and the moment of wonder so beautiful that the world stops turning when they collide. Or so the legends say.

The legends speak of a girl who lived a childhood in shadow, in the corners of a house and the aftermath of altercations, battles of words and wit and the darker forms of confrontation. A girl who slept next to a grimoire of spells she could not know the applications of until it was too late, who wore dark lipstick and her appearance like a weapon. Underhanded tactics and layers of facades maintained as weapons that molded her childhood into an alcohol dripping memory.

The legends speak of a girl who lived a childhood yearning for the light, in a tower as far up into the sun as she could be, defying her species’ biology to fill herself with bright. A girl who woke up on a moon of shimmering gold, living two lives in the light. Brutality and a chainsaw followed her around in her harsh world, as she burned away her role as a mother to be something made of fire and warmth for her friends, always for her friends.

The girls played a game. The first received the light, and found it wanting. The second woke again on her moon, and orbited her friends and found them wanting. The second warned the first, and she did not listen. The first rejected her light, and thus fell into the darkness.

It is a tale told to children, to warn them not to stray off the path. The dark is dangerous. Things unknowable and unwelcoming lurk there. But to one who has spent her life in the darkness, it is not dangerous. It is home. And those who lurk in the darkness welcomed her madness and grief. And they sang together, for a time.

The second girl won her game, and then did not. She was on a meteor swathed in darkness, and, in the absence of her light, was unable to stop her friends. She held her future in both hands and watched it be destroyed. She unsheathed her violence and her fire and screamed at those who she had given her life to loving. She was killed. 

The first girl piloted a moon, and was afraid to die. She looked her brother in the eye and rose up as a being of light, shrouded in knowledge and power. She flew to a meteor covered in inky blackness, and landed with light in her palms and her veins.

The dead girl rose up with a hole in her stomach and her blood shimmering with light. Her skin was fire, now, and she was the violence she had learned as a child. She killed to protect, to avenge, and fell into orbit around the girl on the top of the meteor. 

They loved, and Loved, and ascended to the stars where they belonged. 

They cannot die, anymore, and the details of their legends are lost to time. Their names have been lost. Their names are not important. Their stories, however, live on. The girls of childhoods dark and light who died and rose again and collided in the most beautiful of ways, their lives already destroyed and rebuilding themselves together, with each other. 

They are eternal, the sun and the moon, the celestial bodies as old as time and as old as fate and love and the ethereal peace that is loving, and knowing you have already died.


End file.
